Magnus Fin and the Selkie Secret (13 page)

Far out at sea, towering waves buffeted a small yacht. It pitched into the wind and looked as though it would be swallowed up by the angry sea.

The yacht wasn’t the only thing being battered by the storm. Ahead of it a beautiful mermaid struggled against the pounding waves. Her long dark hair flew back in the tempest. Her turquoise tail flashed as she was flung up then down. But she, like the selkies, knew the power and magic in song. Though the salt spray lashed over her face and the swell threatened to drive her off course, she sang to still the storm. She sang to guide the yacht. She sang to summon the land.

Eastwards she swam, the whole ocean now stirred to a thrashing fury. Waves reared high then came crashing down. Wild white horses of spume galloped over the Atlantic Ocean. Frantically the mermaid glanced over her shoulder. The brave yacht rode the mighty waves. It wouldn’t be another wreck festering at the bottom of the sea. Exhausted she kept going. With the last of her strength she sang.

While deep under the sea the swell grew, and grew.

Magnus Fin turned frantic circles with his arms. He felt the strong current suck him away from the pile of rubble. Fighting against the storm’s force he swam back.
The fish gang hadn’t returned. They’d been in there for ages. Where were they?

Hurry!
he shouted.
Hurry, the tide is turning. The ruins will be sucked under the sands. You have to come out. You’ll be buried alive. Hurry! Neptune’s whipping up a storm.

Magnus Fin looked anxiously round for the ghost of the conger eel. Would the powerful swell of the sea mean anything to a ghost?

Fin had never felt so alone. Below him the sands trembled. The tidal waters dragged and sloshed. Fin grabbed hold of a slumped pillar and clung to it, to stop the swell hurling him against the rubble. The angry tide heaved and rushed now, lashing at rocks, hurling boulders, flinging bones. Any moment the throne heap would be swallowed up. Still Fin clung to the pillar. He couldn’t peel his gaze away from the place the fish had vanished into.

Please, storm, hold back just another minute. Please,
he cried,
please!

It’s done.

Fin swung round. The slinking shape of the conger ghost slithered over the ocean floor. Fin heard a deep sigh tremble through its voice.
I’m going home now.

We got it, bro, took a while, but we found it!

Real nasty in there.

That was one smashed-up great white!

Dangling from Spike’s largest hook was a bunch of keys!

Took some finding,
Spike went on.
Some evil mess in there. Oh, bro, you don’t want to know! Gross!

Swim!
Magnus Fin shouted as the mighty sea swell rushed over the rubble, flinging stones and hurling bones.
We have to get out of here. Quick!

The fish gang, as one, turned and darted off. Magnus Fin followed. The heaving sea battered them and carried them away from the ruins. The churning waters flung them far from the gloom and destruction. There was no resisting the force of the sea now. Mighty tidal waves reared high, and like champion surfers they rode the waves.

The first pink light streaked the eastern sky when a wave threw Magnus Fin, spluttering and gasping, above the surface. In the distance he could see the cliffs and beach of home. But where was the fish gang? The sea had grown strangely calm now. Fin lowered himself back under the water then plunged deep. As he dived he scanned the surrounding sea with his
torch-lights
.

That wave had to be a hundred metres high at least! Man, that was a blast!

Fin swung round. It was Spike, with the keys still dangling from his hook.
Where did you go, bro? We dig nothing better than riding the surf. Wow, I must have leapt as high as the clouds.

High as the moon.

High as the sun. That’s what I call fun!

The other members of the fish gang appeared, looking like they’d just survived twenty goes on the high-speed big dipper at the funfair.

Relief tingled through Fin’s exhausted body. He scanned the water, wondering what had become of the conger eel. In the back of his mind he heard the ghost’s voice almost happy now:
I’m going home!

Thanks!
Fin called to him, wherever he was.
And good luck!

Now it was the hum of the sea and the jangling of fish-hooks that Fin could hear. And something else far in the distance – the faint and beautiful sound of Aquella singing.

Magnus Fin pulled out the hidden seal skin and flapped it out in the clear water, cleaning it. Exhaustion fled and he felt strong again. Then, like a streak of black and orange lightning, he led the fish gang into the bay. As he swam, the precious shining black seal skin, like a flag of victory, wafted free.

On the sandy beach dawn was breaking. Fulmars were up, preening themselves on their craggy ledges, chattering loudly. Aquella sang. Sometimes the fulmars stopped chattering, cocked their white heads and seemed to listen. Her song drifted out over the stormy sea while, unopened in the cave behind her, lay the rusty kist.

With her eyes closed Aquella sang, so she didn’t see Magnus Fin hoist himself up to the high black rock and shake the salt water from his hair.

Magnus Fin jumped over the rocks. In his wetsuit pocket he had the keys. Hidden behind his back he clasped the seal skin. Twice he stopped and waved in Aquella’s direction but she didn’t wave back. Her song rippled clear and strong. Even the tough fish gang, as Magnus Fin unhooked the precious keys from Spike’s fish-hook, had wept to hear her singing. Spike had told Fin,
We wear our hearts on our scales, bro. We such emotional fish.

Magnus Fin walked steadily now, over the stony beach and onto the stretch of soft sand. The strength of the land seeped into him. Drawing closer he saw that Aquella had her eyes closed. He shook out her seal skin in the early morning breeze. Still Aquella sang, though Fin detected her nostrils quiver.

Fin padded over the sand towards her. Without a sound he knelt down next to her. He held the seal skin
in both hands and as gently as he could placed it on her lap. Aquella’s song didn’t falter. Her nostrils widened as she bent her head and sniffed the air. Her quivering fingers found the pelt. She kept singing. Tears ran down her face. She dug her fingers into the fur. Still she kept singing. She took up her seal coat and pressed it to her chest. She kept singing, though now you couldn’t tell what was sobbing and what was song.

“My seal skin,” she cried finally, tears spilling down her face. “My very own seal skin. I’ve got it back at last.” She buried her face in the warm, clean, perfect fur.

Tarkin had hardly slept a wink. By the sound of his mother pacing around and sighing loudly all night long, it seemed she’d hardly slept either. It was early morning when the smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafted up from the kitchen. Tarkin pushed open the kitchen door. It was only seven a.m. What, he wondered, was his mother doing having pancakes at seven a.m.? As he stepped into the warm kitchen his mother, who was sitting at the table, looked up at him, and wearily shook her head. “I worry about you sometimes, Tarkin. I really do.”

“But, Mom, you asked for the truth. It’s the truth.” He slipped into his usual seat at the table, and fiddled with his shark’s tooth necklace. The night before he’d told her the whole story – about the sighting of the mermaid, and the selkies, and the scary teenager. “Seriously, Mom, I’m not making it up!”

“So basically,” his mother said, “you threw my mother’s precious pearl necklace into the sea?” She drizzled maple syrup on a pancake.

“But it wasn’t like that. I hoped she would see it and come out of the water. Then I dropped it by mistake.”

For a while no one said anything. Martha bit off an end of pancake and chewed loudly. “Oh, Tarkin, you act like you’re three or something. You act like these kids with imaginary friends. You make me uncomfortable when you talk that way.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I know what’s true. I had a precious necklace belonging to my dear mother, and now I don’t. That’s what’s true.”

“I’ll try and get it back.” Tarkin touched his mother gently on the arm. “Can I have a pancake?”

She laughed then, a tired hopeless laugh. “Sure you can. But listen to me: don’t do anything foolish. Losing the necklace is bad enough. I don’t want to lose you too!” Then she smiled at him, got up and spooned batter into the frying pan. Tarkin knew he was forgiven, but even so, he still felt bad.

“I’m really sorry, Mom.”

At that moment they heard the familiar thud of letters being dropped through the letterbox. Tarkin jumped to his feet, like he always did, and ran through to the hallway. He came back with a bundle of leaflets about supermarket deals and who to vote for at the next election. There was nothing from his dad.

His mother caught his look of disappointment and said quickly, “I got pizza in for lunch. Your favourite.”

“Great,” Tarkin said without enthusiasm. He hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet. He didn’t have the appetite to think about lunch. But nonetheless he tried to push the familiar disappointment away as he dropped the flyers
into the bin. He looked up, and managed a weak smile. “With pepperoni and mozzarella?”

His mother nodded and scooped the hot pancake onto a plate. For the time being, it seemed, the missing necklace was forgotten. But for Tarkin it wasn’t so easy to forget the other missing thing in his life – his dad. For the hundredth time he wondered,
Where is he? Why hasn’t he written?

His mother pushed the bottle of maple syrup across the table. “Want some?”

Tarkin nodded. Then he rolled the sweet pancake, picked it up and bit into it. He licked syrup from his chin and eyed the kitchen clock. It was twenty past seven, and it wasn’t even a school day. He finished his pancake, kissed his mother on the cheek and went out into the bright June morning. With any luck he might catch Magnus Fin doing a spot of beachcombing, or treasure hunting. Or maybe he’d found the key! Maybe he was going to open the box?

Tarkin sprinted down the hillside and over the bridge. Running fast helped him forget his worries. Soon it was excitement fluttering inside him as he sped along the beach path. That was the thing about having a friend like Magnus Fin; you never knew just what he might be up to. For all Tarkin knew, his best friend might be having breakfast with the great King Neptune himself.

Tarkin was out of breath by the time he reached the beach. In the distance, close to the cave, he saw two figures sitting on the sand. “Fin!” he yelled, then whooped three times – that was their signal. He saw Fin raise a hand and wave back. It looked like Aquella
sitting beside him. Tarkin ran towards them, his ponytail flapping in the breeze.

But Tarkin wasn’t the only one that Saturday morning who had risen early and set off for the beach.

Billy Mole hadn’t slept a wink either. Something fishy was going on. It frightened Billy. It gave him the creeps, but in another way it fascinated him. He’d never encountered anything like this in his whole seventeen years. He’d stumbled upon some kind of mystery, and now for the life of him he didn’t know what to do about it. Billy Mole got up, put on his now crumpled clothes and went out into the bright morning. His heart thumped. His mind boggled. He turned his steps in the direction of the beach.

Tarkin, long legs leaping over the sand and stones, made it to the cave in seconds, whooping, yelling scuffing up sand and forgetting all about Mission Act Normal. He didn’t notice the black fur that Aquella had stuffed inside her green jacket, even though bits stuck out. His eyes fell instead to the bunch of keys in Magnus Fin’s hand.

“Wow!” Tarkin exclaimed, thumping Fin on the arm. “You did it! You’re so awesome. You…”

Fin shook his head. “It wasn’t just me. I’ve got a few friends out there.” Fin nodded in the direction of the ocean. “They found them. All I did was promise to throw them some sausage rolls.”

Tarkin wasn’t too interested in the details. “So – come on, come on – aren’t you gonna open the box? I had a hunch, you know? I’m never up this early, but something told me, ‘Tark, get yourself down there. Quick!’” Tarkin grinned, nodded and gestured towards the cave.

“I had a hunch you’d turn up too,” said Fin. “That’s why we hung on. Aquella and I have been here for ages waiting for you.”

It was Tarkin who reached the mouth of the cave first. He found the precious box hidden under its camouflage of seaweed and stared down at the pongy mess plonked
higgledy-piggledy over it. His eyes fell to the footsteps in the sand beside the box. He looked worried and turned to Fin and Aquella who had just reached the mouth of the cave. “I get the feeling someone’s been here.”

Fin flashed a look back along the beach. “It’s OK, Tark,” he said, stepping into the cave and kneeling down beside the kist. “No one’s opened it. That’s the main thing.” He would tell Tarkin all about the snooping teenager, but not now. Now was the time to see if one of these keys fitted the kist, discover what was inside and, if it was Neptune’s stolen treasure, return it to him.

Tarkin hopped from foot to foot. “Man, I’m so glad I came along.”

“Me too,” added Aquella, fishing a hankie from her pocket. “Don’t touch the kist, Fin. Here,” she handed him a clump of dried kelp, “use this as a kind of glove.”

Tarkin and Aquella stood on either side, while Magnus Fin, down on his knees level with the kist, wrapped the kelp around his hand. With his covered hand he swept away the seaweed then stroked the kist. He tapped it. He patted the rough surface and after what seemed like for ever he found the small keyhole.

With shaking hands he found the small silver key that looked as if it would fit the lock. “I’ve – I’ve got it,” he whispered, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Does it fit? Oh boy, come on, Fin, turn the key.” Tarkin peered over Fin’s shoulder. So did Aquella.

With quivering fingers Magnus Fin fitted the small silver key into the keyhole.

For what seemed an eternity all three were silent, hearts thudding, pulses racing, wide eyes staring. Then
out of the unbearable silence came the crunching sound of a key turning in a lock.

Aquella gasped, Tarkin let out a squeal of joy and Magnus Fin trembled as he opened the lid of the rusty old kist.

Their silence while the key turned in the lock was nothing compared to their silence when the lid was opened. Vivid light streamed out, so intense they all staggered back and covered their eyes. Tarkin wanted to yell and cheer but kept his mouth shut. This was Fin’s moment. But words escaped Magnus Fin. Awe-struck he could only tremble and shield his eyes. His jaw fell open. Never in his life had he seen anything so dazzling: jewels so bright he could hardly look at them. It was like the sun and all the planets glowing in the box.

“It’s… it’s…” He swallowed hard and tried again. “It’s real treasure!” His voice wobbled with emotion. “It really is! It’s the Seudan!”

“The
Seudan
,” murmured Aquella, “the jewels of the ocean.”

Shimmering jewels, as radiant as the box was ugly, lay nestled one against the other. And they weren’t the kind of jewels normally seen by humans. Each precious jewel shone like the sun blazing down on a miniature ocean, glistening red, white, purple, emerald and gold.

For a while Magnus Fin, Tarkin and Aquella, pressed back against the wall of the cave, could only shield their eyes and gasp. But after some moments, the intense light, which at first was blinding, grew warm and soft until the jewels in the kist seemed to glow kindly. They took hesitant steps forward then Tarkin and Aquella
paused. It was only right that Magnus Fin should be the first to step up to the kist.

In awe Magnus Fin gazed down, his heart pounding. With shaking hands, and this time with no kelp to protect him, he knelt down and lifted a golden ball from the kist. The golden ball shone like the sun. As he held it he felt great love and strength pour into him. As he lifted it to his ear he could hear the deep rippling, booming music of the ocean. And his heart glowed. Symbols, he saw, were etched onto this stone, ancient and mysterious. These symbols, Magnus Fin understood, contained instructions on ruling the sea. With the Seudan in safe hands, wisdom would never be forgotten. Here was wave-making, sea-cleaning, swells and rip curls, high tides and low. With trembling hands Magnus Fin studied the symbols.

He returned the golden ball to the kist then looked up at Tarkin, whose eyes sparkled with light from the precious jewels. “Hold one,” Fin murmured.

“Yes,” whispered Aquella, who ventured forward and stroked the jewels. “And wish on it. There are garnets, jasper, quartz, emerald, amethyst and gold.” She closed her eyes and made a wish.

Fin and Tarkin gazed at Aquella, astonished she knew the names of the precious jewels. Taking a deep breath Tarkin reached into the kist and lifted out a deep purple gem, craggy and sparkling.

“That’s amethyst,” Aquella declared.

Tarkin gazed at the amethyst, carved as it was with the script of the sea. He pressed it against his cheek, closed his eyes and wished. While he did Aquella took a step back, then another. Noiselessly she slipped away.

Tarkin opened his eyes when he heard a yelp in the distance, followed by a splash. He returned the purple jewel to the kist and looked anxiously around. “Where’s Aquella?”

“She’s gone,” Fin replied. “Back to the sea. That was probably her wish.”

Tarkin’s gaze landed on the green puffy jacket that lay on the sand by the mouth of the cave. Beside it lay her hat and her pink scarf. He couldn’t believe it; Aquella had returned to the sea!